


Hello, Old Friend

by Brolinismerthur



Category: Doctor Who, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Doctor Who/Merlin crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:49:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brolinismerthur/pseuds/Brolinismerthur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelfth Doctor and his new companion Jethro Cane discover a legend. Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey...stuff happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello, Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forevermerthur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forevermerthur/gifts).



> This is for my friend Denise. Hopefully it does her DOCTHRO dream justice. :)

“Clara, I-“ Eleven whispers.

“I’m sor-“ she sobs. “I’m sorry,” it’s a whisper as the tears run down her face, the light in her brown eyes fading.

~*~~*~

They land on the familiar planet.

The TARDIS picked up a distress signal from a broken down ship. Not only was it broken down, but it was also abandoned. All personnel were either gone or lying dead on the floor. What had done this? Or….Who? 

They landed right in the middle of the control room. Stepping out they saw the lifeless bodies and, although Clara was adventurous, she was having a bad feeling about this. So was the Doctor, but how could he resist a chance to fight off an evil alien?

They set out to explore the dark, quiet ship.

 “Clara?” The Doctor asked at sudden shift of temperature.  And again when there was no answer, “Cla-“ he turned to look at her; white face, pale skin, a look of shock on her face. It was if she’d seen a ghost. “Clara?” he asked hesitantly, reaching out to brush his fingers across her cheek.

Her quick reflexes grabbed his arm before it touched her face. He gasped as she blinked; unaware of the death grip she had on his arm. “Sorry, did you say something?” She asked innocently. He looked down at her white knuckles and back into her warm brown eyes. Quickly looking down, she released him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-“ she blurted  out shaking her head. “It’s alright,” said the Doctor with a furrowed brow of confusion.

Walking deeper into the ship, they saw more bodies. It got colder as they ventured further. “What do you suppose went on here?” Clara asked following close behind him. “Don’t know,” he whispered.

There was a blinking blue light in the room to the left that caught Clara’s attention. It was pulsating, beckoning her towards it. It looked like just a button. Was it for opening a door or turning on the engines, she didn’t know. It just seemed to _want_ to be pushed. She reached her hand out tentatively. Hovering her index finger over it. “NO!” The Doctor grabbed her arm similarly to the way she grabbed his not a minute ago. “Don’t,” he said in a hushed warning. He pulled out is sonic screwdriver and assessed the button. He hummed at the information it gave him. “Seems harmless enough.” He said as he smacked the button.

It went pitch black for all of three seconds. Then the small screen on the dash began to flicker to life. An eerie yellow light shown above them illuminating the room. They blinked at each other than focused their attention back on the screen.

“Hello?” said the man on the screen with a terrified look on his face. “Is this thing on? Our ship just fell out of the sky and now we don’t know where we are, what planet we’re on, what is out there. The engines just gave out!” There was banging sound coming from behind him. “What the hell was that!” he shouted to someone off screen. “I don’t know captain, *bang* but it *bang* seems like it *bang bang*is trying to get in!” The screen goes dark but the sound is still clear. More banging, the sound of metal being ripped open, screaming, shouting, curse words, whispered prayers. That was all they heard, then the sound was gone. The screen blinked and there was nothing left to watch.

Both the Doctor and Clara swallowed and looked at each other.

“What do we do?” she asked. “Do you think anyone survived? Should we go search?”

“There is nothing left here,” the Doctor stated, looking around the empty room.

Bang.

Clara jumped and grabbed the Doctor’s hand.

Bang bang.

“What is it, Doctor?” she managed to whisper.

“We need to get off this ship,” he whispered sternly.

They set out, making their way back to the TARDIS, but was it a left or a right at the end of the corridor?

He pulled Clara to the left as she tugged him to the right. The banging was getting closer.

~*~~*~

“Clara, please,” the Doctor begged. “I know you’re in there.”

She stared at him with empty eyes, her arm stretched out, holding a fiery blue orb in the palm of her hand.

~*~~*~

Bang. Bang bang.

A force threw the Doctor back against the wall. Clara was suspended in mid-air, a whisping blue light surrounding her body. Her head was thrown back and her limps stretched out at her sides. The blue light wrapped around her, than finally entered her through her mouth.

She fell in a heap to the floor.

“Clara?!” He shouted as he slid over to her limp body. He shook her, soniced her body to figure out just what was in her.

 _Nothing_. The sonic screwdriver found nothing.

“Clara?” He pushed back her hair from her face. Her eyes opened, relieving big brown pools. They flashed blue then returned to their normal color. “Are you alright?”

“Never better,” she smiled. “Why are we on the floor?”

All the Doctor could do was blink at her, expecting for her to turn into some possessed zombie creature at any moment.

“You sure you’re alright?” He questioned once more.

“Doctor, I’m fine. Really.”

He narrows his eyes are her as they both begin to stand, but somehow he was eye level with her now.

Her body was floating a foot off the ground and getting higher by the second.

“CLARA!” The Doctor yelled, her hand slipping through his fingers as he tried to pull her back down.

“You cannot have her,” her voice was deep and raspy, not hers at all. “Clara is mine now, Doctor.”

“Give. Her. Back.” He’s angry now, grinding his teeth as the thing that possesses Clara laughs.

“You can’t have her,” it teases. “I can feel her giving in.”

“Clara! If you’re in there you have to fight! Do you hear me? Fight back!”

“Doctor,” its Clara’s voice. He can see her brown eyes once more just before they fade away.

“NO!” says the voice, forcing the Doctor back against the wall with the thud.

Her arm is stretched in front of her now, a blue fiery ball in her palm.

Why didn’t they just leave? Why did he always have to give into temptation? He could have stopped this! He could have saved her! Again! But, this time, he was powerless.  He doesn’t know this enemy. His sonic screwdriver is useless against it’s powers.

She glides closer, her palm only inches from his chest.

“Clara, I-“ he whispers.

And her eyes flicker for a moment.

“I’m sor-“ she sobs. She can’t even get her words out. “I’m sorry,” it’s a whisper as the tears run down her face. She is gone in an instant.

“There is no use, Doctor,” says the voice.

She shoved the blue flame into his chest and collapses.

The Doctor gasps through sobs as he falls to the floor, clutching his chest.

Clara is small and lifeless at his feet. He scrambles to grab her body, but he can feel his regeneration beginning, pushing out whatever it was that she thrust in him.

With all the strength that is left in him, he carries Clara toward the TARDIS. He walks weak kneed and wobbly to the door. Inches away, the process has begun, making it even more difficult to step through the doors. Bright light surrounded his hunched form just as he lay Clara down at the base of the counsel. He staggers back, the force of his regeneration overpowering him.

“No,” his voice was hoarse as he tried to reach out to give his last regeneration to Clara, to save her once more, from an early death.

But his light could not reach her darkness. He burst into yellow and orange flames, a tear rolling down his cheek.

There, next to her, his body began turning into someone completely different, someone unknown.

~*~

When he woke, the Doctor sat and gazed upon the beauty that was Clara Oswin Oswald. Without checking himself, and what body he now possessed, he set the TARDIS to present day Earth.

~*~

It has been two days. Two days of sitting alone in the TARDIS. Alone. As it should be. No one will suffer the fate of Clara, Amy, Rory or Rose. His hearts couldn’t take anymore.

The best thing to do now is disappear. 

~*~

He still has not inspected his new form. Why should he? There is no one to see, nowhere to go. The TARDIS will be his grave. Closed up and buried away in some corner of an abandoned alleyway. No one can find him. And no one will.

He wanders to the closet, this body powered on autopilot. Its filled with suits and hats and scarves and shoes, with a floor to ceiling mirror at the back. He needs to remove the memories. Layer by layer.

For the first time, he lays eyes on his reflection. Empty blue eyes stare back at him. Full lips drawn in a tight line. Squared jaw. Defined nose. Sandy blond hair that is sticking up in all directions; his hands pulling at it as he hunches over, silently crying.

 He punches the glass, cracking it. His reflection in each piece glares back at him.

Slowly coming to his senses, he wanders the racks searching for something that will fit is new broad shoulders and narrow waist.

He finds a suit. Black. A crisp white button up shirt to contrast.

The familiar red of a tie. He knots it at his collar and stares at his many reflections in the broken mirror.

In the breast pocket of his jacket, he feels something.

A sonic screwdriver.

It’s silver, with a gold vertical stripe on the handle. The light is yellow as he uses it to fix the mirror. It feels familiar in his hands, like he’s had it before. It settles his nerves and for a split second he forgets about the last few days. He has a feeling like he should leave the TARDIS.

But then he shakes his head, replaces the screwdriver in his pocket and all thoughts are gone.

~*~

He’s restless. His new body doesn’t allow him to sit and stare at the wall. Exploring the rooms of the TARDIS is boring and overdone. He needs to get out. Only for a few minutes. Just to breathe the air outside and see something other than buttons and screens.

Standing in front of the door, his hand hovering over the handle, he takes a deep breath and pulls.

~*~

Slowly stepping out, he takes in his surroundings; the wet, black pavement below his shoes, and the mirroring sky up above. The TARDIS is parked right in the mid-point between the length of the alleyway. To the left, a yellow street light does it’s best to illuminate the pale grey walls of the sides of the buildings that make up the narrow corridor.

The Doctor makes his way toward the light, just to see what’s on the other side of street. He stops just before entering the yellow circle of light on the ground.

Poking his head out from the behind the wall, he sees people walking out of a pub, their laughter echoing in the empty street. It seems harmless enough.

But of course, every time he thinks that, something happens.

“Oi, watch it,” says a tall, pale boy wearing all black as he shoves past him.

“Sorry,” the Doctor replies out of instinct before doing a double take. “Jethro?”

The boy turns back, eyes wide and brow furrowed.

“How-?” He points at the Doctor with his index finger. “Who are you and how do you know my name?” He demands.

The Doctor feels the corner of his lips pull into a smile. “Jethro! It’s me!” Pointing to himself.

He looks down and frowns. “Well, a different me, that is.”

Jethro’s face looks like a mix of concern and curiousity. His hand has moved to his pocket, as if holding something within. “Look, mate I don’t have time for games,” he says and turns to leave.

“Jethro, its me, The Doctor,” the Doctor says to his back.

Jethro stops mid-step and whips around to face the self-claimed Doctor once more.

“What? No, you’re not. You look nothing like him. Who told you that name?” He’s leaning into the Doctor’s personal space now, threateningly.

Taking a step back, the Doctor says, “It is me, Jethro. We met on a shuttle bus on the planet, Midnight.”

The boy’s deep blue eyes search the man before him, wondering how he could know such a dark and yet, treasured memory.

“But, you’re not _him_ him,” Jethro says with a hint of doubt in his voice.

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re not though.”

“Same old Jethro, I see.” The Doctor laughs and reaches for his breast pocket.

Jethro stills and his hand whips out of his pocket. He’s hold a small tube of something in front of the Doctors face, “I’m warning you,” he threatens.

 “Alright, calm down,” The Doctor soothes and brings out his sonic screwdriver. “See, just my screwdriver, remember this?” he holds it out in his palm between them for Jethro to observe.

He looks down at the sleek wand and blinks. “It’s different than I remember.”

“So am I.”

He narrows his eyes at the man. “So it seems,” he lowers his weapon.

“Is that- breath freshener?” The Doctor asks with a quirked eyebrow, pointing at the tube in Jethro’s hand.

“Erm, yeah,” he says shrugging his shoulders, spraying some in his mouth. He smiles.

~*~

“So, why are you,” Jethro gestures to the new body that is the Doctor, “different?”

They made their way into the pub after their reunion in the street, it was Jethro’s idea. They are sitting a table in the corner, Jethro drinking a 7 & 7, since he’s of age now, and the Doctor nursing a glass of coke.

He hesitates for a moment, not sure if he wants to go into detail about how came about this new body. So he goes for the more basic explanation, “Timelords don’t die, like most creatures. We regenerate. Believe it or not, this is my second body since seeing you.”

“Oh,” says the boy taking a sip of his drink.

“How did you, erm, not die?” he asks as he looks at the Doctor over the brim of his glass, pressing his straw into his bottom lip.

“Enough about me,” the Doctor waves his hands in the air, “What about you? How are your parents? What are you doing now days?” He deflects, looking down at his drink.

“Um, my parents? They’re – they’re good, I guess,” he nods. “Well, when you kick out your good for nothing son you tend to have less to worry about,” he says jokingly.

“They kicked you out?” The Doctor gasps.

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “Tired of ‘dealing with my attitude,’ they said. And at 18 they kicked me out, said I was old enough to mess up my own life,” there is sadness in his eyes, but his voice is light, like it’s a funny joke.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Why he asked that the Doctor doesn’t know. What happened to ‘just a quick peek outside then straight back into the TARDIS?’ he thinks to himself.

“There is a decent bench in the park, down the street,” he smiles. The Doctor’s eyebrows shoot up and Jethro laughs. “I’ve been staying with a mate,” he revises.

“Oh, good.” The Doctor clears his throat. “Well, I should be going.” He starts to stand; he looks at the wide eyes in front of him and smiles. “It was nice seeing you again, Jethro.”

“Oh, yeah, you too,” he nods. He smiles, but the Doctor can see the sadness in his eyes again.

Without thinking, “Care to join me?”

What was he doing? He knows this goes against everything he promised himself he _wouldn’t_ do and here he is inviting the boy to _join_ him! Doctor, do you enjoy being hurt and hurting others? Of course not! Then take back your offer right now. “I mean, care to _walk out_ with me? Then you can go on your way to your mate’s house,” he corrected.

Jethro’s bright smile dimmed. “Yeah, sure,” he ducked his head as he got up from the table.

~*~

He watched Jethro’s thin frame sink into the darkness before turning into the alleyway.

Once in the TARDIS, he slumped against the doors, and hung his head in his hands.

“Argh,” he huffed as he turned and threw open the doors, he was going to regret this. He stepped out onto the pavement and ran in the direction he last saw Jethro’s shadow.

~*~

He was nowhere. There was no bus stop, no homes or flats on this block; there was no where he could have gone.

Then he saw it. The park.

He walked in through the rusty gates and searched the benches one by one.

“I thought you were joking,” he said to a slim body under a tree.

He peeked his eye open, “I was, see, I’m not on a bench and this is my mate, Leafy,” he said pointing at the tree above him.

“It’s freezing out here. Get up,” The Doctor commanded, searching for Jethro’s hands to help him. His long fingers smooth against his own; they were warm.

“What are you doing?” Jethro’s voice was small and quiet.

“I’m being nice, now kindly, shut up.” The Doctor wrapped his arm around Jethro’s thin waist and guided him towards the TARDIS.

They walked in silence. Jethro, staring up at the Doctor every now and then, and the Doctor staring straight ahead, he could feel the dark blue eyes burning the side of his face.

~*~

“You live in a police booth?” Jethro scoffed. “Not much better than me.”

“Just wait, you idiot.” The doors swung open at the sound the Doctor’s snapping fingers.

“Woah,” Jethro marveled, blinking at the Doctor’s fingers then back to the open doors.

The Doctor looked at him sidelong and swaggered inside, Jethro stumbling behind him, mouth hanging open.

“Its-its,” Jethro stammered as he stared in awe. “Its-“

“I know,” The Doctor smirked.

“Ha!” Jethro barked and pulled at his hair. “Its fucking brilliant!”

“I’ll show you your room.”

“I HAVE A ROOM?!”

“Yes.”

“There are rooms in this thing?!”

“Yes, Jethro, there are rooms.”

 “Well, fuck me,” Jethro breathed as he followed the Doctor down a hall.

He gaped at every room and bounced on the balls of his feet at every turn, he was like a five year old at an amusement park wanting to go everywhere all at once, but had to follow the parent instead.

“Here,” the Doctor pushed open a door to reveal a light blue room with a soft mattress and, a desk and dresser.

After settling in – the Doctor found some extra clothes for him to change into and an extra tooth brush – Jethro tucked into his bed and whispered a quiet “thank you, Doctor,” as he shut out the lights.

~*~

“Where do you want to go today, Jethro?” The Doctor asked as they ate breakfast at a cafe down the street.

How easy it was to get back in the rhythm of having someone there, to talk to, to travel with.

“Um, we could walk around town? I could show you the sights,” he said through a mouthful of food.

“I’ve seen them.”

“Oh, well then-“ Jethro paused as he took a sip of coffee and pondered for a moment.

“I meant, if you could go _anywhere_ \- in the universe, in time - where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere? Anytime? What drugs are you on, Doc?” Jethro joked.

“I’m not on anything, you git,” the Doctor shoved Jethro’s fragile shoulder. “My TARDIS, it can take us anywhere.”

“What like a rocket ship?”

“No, not like a _rocket_ ship, a _space_ ship,” the Doctor corrected.

Jethro’s  eyes lit up.

“Go on, take your time. Most people can’t fathom such a ques-“

“I know where I want to go,” Jethro interrupted.

“Oh?” The Doctor questioned, intrigued.

“Yes.”

“And where is that?”

“Your favorite place.”

He said it with such bright blue eyes and such a warm smile that the Doctor could _feel_ the words radiating, dancing across his new skin. He looked at Jethro, who was still smiling through a mouthful of pancakes, looking like a goofy teenager, and he felt a familiar tug in his chest.

~*~

“Where are we?” Jethro asked as the TARDIS came to a still.

“My favorite place,” The Doctor stated.

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re a prat?” Jethro asked with quirked eyebrow and crooked smile.

The Doctor scoffed, “No.”

“Well you are,” he said over his shoulder as he ran toward the doors.

The Doctor shook his head with a smile.

The banter, the name calling, it all seemed very comfortable. It seemed _right_. He didn’t know why or how, but Jethro made him feel alive. It was almost as if they had done this before.

~*~

“Its amazing,” Jethro breathed.

The Doctor nodded. It was beautiful. The TARDIS floating in space, gave the perfect view of Earth. It was his favorite place because, well, from where he was, he could imagine Rose living her new life, and Martha and Mickey, Donna, all of the amazing people he came across and had the honor of calling his friend. They were there, on Earth, living. Living lives of normality. It made him happy in a weird way. True, he’d lost all those people, but knowing that they are down there, in whatever time or dimension they are in, they are alive and happy.

Jethro swung his legs back in the TARDIS and stood up to lean against the frame, mimicking the Doctor’s stance. “I can see why you like here.”

The Doctor smiled at him and turned to go in. Jethro caught his arm before he could leave. He looked down at where is fingers wrapped around the Doctor’s muscular arm and blushed. “I just-this was great,” he whispered.

~*~

Two weeks later, they were sitting on a bench by a lake when Jethro spoke.

“I’m gay.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows rose then fell into a furrow. “So?”

“No, I mean, I’m _gay._ That’s one of the reasons why my parents threw me out.” He tossed the last bread crumb to the ducks, watching as they fought over it.

The Doctor just looked at him, watched how his eyes narrowed, the blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks, how he started to hunch into himself.

“Stop staring!” Jethro blurted out into the air in front of him. “Its not like _I’m_ the alien here.”

The Doctor laughed at that, “would that be so bad?”

“No. It’d be worse,” Jethro teased.

~*~

It was late. They had been talking about nothing in particular, just life, and the Doctor telling stories of his adventures.  Jethro had fallen asleep on the counsel, drooling all over it. He stared at the sleeping boy, taking in his sharp cheekbones, ridiculous ears, pouting pink lips; his pale skin glowing in the lights of the TARDIS. He wanted to brush his fingers through the messy curls and feel the weight of his slim hands in his.

“You’re staring,” Jethro said in a sleep thick voice.

“Am not,” the Doctor crossed his arms over his chest and averted his eyes from lingering too long on those full lips.

Jethro sat up and stretched, revealing a thin strip of brown hair on his stomach, and pointy hip bones. The Doctor could see it out of the corner of eye.

“Well, then,” Jethro yawned, “g’night, Doc.”

“Sleep well, Jethro.”

And he watched as Jethro shimmed up the stairs.

This was not good.

~*~

“Can we go to the medieval times?” Jethro begged as he wiggled his hips into the seat.

“What?” The Doctor was not distracted by the movement, not at all.

“The medieval times?” Jethro repeated questioning his question.

“Oh, erm, I don’t see why not.”

~*~

They were watching a jousting tournament when it happened.

The opponent of Prince David had summoned the Great Griffin. It wreaked havoc on the tournament, everyone scrambled indoors, all except the Doctor and Jethro.

The beast stood in the middle, where the jousting had just taken place. The Doctor and Jethro stood five feet away from it, one it’s left and the other on it’s right. There were some people still in the stands, crawling out to safety.

It screeched and flapped its wings in fury.

“DOCTOR!” Jethro shouted, but the Doctor could of sworn he heard him say ‘Arthur,’ and tossed a sword at his feet. The Doctor picked it up and wielded it around, taunting the beast.

Somehow, the beast lost interest in him and made its way for Jethro.

No! The Doctor had to do something, fast.

He held the sword in one hand and his sonic screwdriver in the other, sonicing the sword to become an even more deadly weapon. He pocketed the screwdriver as quick as he could and ran toward the beast pointing the sword straight at its heart. Jethro was nowhere in sight.

The Griffin flapped its wings, screeched again and stood on its hind legs. Perfect shot, thought the Doctor. But, why wasn’t it flying away, like it should? And where was Jethro? The Doctor’s hearts began to beat even faster not knowing where he was.

Finally, the Doctor saw a glimpse of him behind the beast. He had stuck a sword in its tail, grounding the beast for the Doctor to kill.

“Do it, Arthur! Do it now!” He shouted.

And with his sword he pierced the heart of the beast. It crumpled over dead and lifeless.

All who chanced a look at the scene shouted and cheered.

The Doctor blinked and looked around to find Jethro, but the people were surrounding him and blocking is view of where he last saw him.

~*~

After everyone cleared, the Doctor spotted Jethro. He was standing by a tree, smiling at him.

He jogged toward him, “Can you believe that just happened!” He through his arms around the Doctor and hugged him. “It was brilliant!” he shouted in his ear. The Doctor held on tight, not wanting to let go, but Jethro pulled away.

“Did you call me, Arthur?” The Doctor asked at the loss of Jethro’s warmth.

“Erm, did I?” Jethro’s brows furrowed as he thought back, “I don’t remember with the excitement and all.”

“Yeah, I guess I was just hearing things.”

Just then a wobbly old man approached them and embraced them both around the shoulders, bringing them down to his level. “Oh, my lads! How you saved us all! It was truly fate that you were here today!”

The boys both laughed and pulled away, straightening up. But he pulled them down once more and in hushed tones asked, “you truly are back, aren’t you?”

They looked at each other, and then blinked at the man. “I’m sorry, what?” The Doctor asked.

“Oh,” said the man, releasing them from his hold.

“Oh, what?” Jethro questioned.

“You don’t-“ he pointed between them. “Oh, my.”

“Don’t, what?” The Doctor asked annoyed.

The man put his finger to his lips and stocked off.

Jethro mouthed ‘nutter,’ at the Doctor, who nodded in agreement.

The old man was barely a foot away when he looked back at them and said, “well, come on!”

They gave each other worried glances, but followed the old man.

~*~

They were inside a small hut on the skirts of the forest.

“So, what don’t we know?” Arthur asked, watching the old man flip through his dusty books.

No answer.

Jethro cleared his throat, “excuse me, sir?” Bending to catch the old man’s gaze.

The old man looked up at that. “Ah, yes.” He pointed to a passage on the page and beckoned them closer.

“It says here that the Once and Future King will rise, and that his most trusted warlock will find him again,” the old man summarized.

“And what does that have to do with us?” The Doctor waved his hand between himself and Jethro.

“Well, the way you two fought together today had remarkable similarities to King Arthur and Merlin,” he explained, nodding to himself in agreement to his own words.

The boys looked at each other and burst out laughing.

What the bloody hell was this old coot on about?

How were _they_ the reincarnation of a king and a warlock!? It was preposterous to say the least.

“Look, old man,” chuckled Jethro. “There is no way in all the galaxies that _we_ are the reincarnation of some legend. Okay?”

The old man stared at them as they laughed some more and tsked.

“It’s a shame you don’t believe. You could have hidden magical powers in you and never know it!”

That shut Jethro up right away. He was bluffing. Right?

Right?

The Doctor grasped Jethro’s should and wiped a tear from his eye. “This oaf? Have magical powers? Ahaha.”

“Its not that hard to believe,” Jethro snapped.

The Doctor looked at him, narrowing his eyes, “What does that mean?”

“Yes, what do you mean by that, my boy?” The old man chimed in, intrigued.

Jethro’s gaze wondered from the Doctor’s to the old man’s and back again. He shrugged his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Jethro?” The Doctor’s tone was accusing and it burned.

“Nothing, I meant nothing,” he said kicking the floor.

“Jethro, do you-?” The Doctor wiggled his fingers in front of him, the universal sign for magic.

If the blush that creeped up Jethro’s cheeks was as bright as he thought it was then he sure as hell couldn’t lie anymore.

“Alright, I might have alittlebitofmagic,” he mumbled.

“YOU DO?!” The Doctor and the old man shouted simultaneously, but with different tones. The Doctor’s was more shock and the old man’s was excitement.

“Yes?” he cringed at the loudness of their response.

“Show me! You must show me!” Demanded the old man.

The Doctor just stood there, his eyes wide and his lips a tight line, and his arms folded across his chest.

~*~

All he had to do was stare at it and his eyes turned a bright gold, and the book closed itself and tucked into the shelf next to the others.

“Oh, my dear! That is magnificent! Truly Magnificent!” exclaimed the old man. “You really _are_ Merlin reincarnated!” He shook Jethro by the shoulders and pulled him down for hug.

Jethro smiled shyly and looked up at the Doctor who seemed, distant, for lack of a better word.

“Doc?” he asked when the old man let go of him. “I’m sorry, I just-“

“Its fine, Jethro,” he dismissed.

“So this makes you the Once and Future King!” the old man cheered to the Doctor.

“But, I’m a Timelord. How can I be a reincarnation of some king?”  He asked the old man, completely avoiding Jethro’s gaze.

“What does it matter?!” the old man grumbled. “All that matters is that you two are here and reunited again!”

The Doctor stared at the old man with a puzzled look on his face. Jethro wanted to smooth the Doctor’s brow and tell him that this was a good thing, that they were meant to be.

After a good number of minutes of silence, the Doctor spoke, “This is my last regeneration.”

The old man gave him a questioning look, Jethro’s eyes widened in shock and fear.

“My kind, we regenerate – heal ourselves, change bodies – twelve times.” The Doctor seemed to be piecing things together faster than the other two because, “This is my twelfth body. Could that be why I’m King Arthur?” He chanced a glance at Jethro. His eyes were big and hopeful, his hands were clasped and pressed to his lips. “We, were meant to-“

“Find each other and be reunited! Yes!” the old man finished for him. The Doctor’s gaze broke away from Jethro’s and he focused on the old man. “Don’t you see? You two were destined to be together!”

~*~

The walk to the TARDIS was a quiet one. Neither of them spoke a word about magic or reincarnated kings, just walked, a foot apart, side by side.

~*~

The door shut behind them.

“I’m sorry, Doc,” Jethro whispered, almost inaudible. “It’s just, it was the other reason why my parent’s kicked me out, and I didn’t want you to-“

“Jethro,” the doctor interrupted. “ _I_ should be the one who is sorry.”

“But, _I’m_ the one who lied to you,” he took a step closer to the Doctor.

“There was no need to tell me,” the reincarnated king whispered, looking up at his warlock.

“I wanted to,” Jethro tugged at a loose thread on his cuff. “I wanted to tell you.” Another step.

“I know now, don’t I?”

He nodded. Another step. One more and he was toe to toe with his king.

The Doctor took a deep breath and took the last step.

“Hi,” Jethro whispered into the air that they shared. He looked up at the Doctor through thick lashes and blushed.

“Hello, old friend.” The King tilted the warlock’s chin up and pressed lips against the his.

A chaste kiss turned into shy wandering hands, the space between them closing in.

He ran his hands in his dark hair, thumbs brushing over those sharp cheekbones.

A nibble on his earlobe, and he is shaking beneath him.

Jehtro’s hands wrap around his narrow waist, and travel up his broad back slowly, tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Full lips brush his jaw, trailing kisses to find his. It’s a deep and passionate, its-been-so-long-since-I-tasted-your-lips kiss.

That familiar feeling the Doctor had all those weeks ago was back and stronger than ever.

More, he needed more, wanted more.

Jethro’s body pushes him up against the console, nudging his knee to stand between his legs.

He could feel him, his hardening cock against his thigh. He grinds into him, making him moan. The kisses become more rushed, teeth clashing, tongues darting. Jethro’s head drops to his collar and he starts to lick and suck bruises into his skin.

 “Jethro,” the Doctor’s voice is hoarse.

“Hmm,” he can feel the vibration of his voice on his skin.

“Jethro,” he pushes him away as he makes a broken whimper of a sound.

He marvels at the sight in front of him; Red lips, tousled hair, pupils fully blown in arousal. He brushes his thumb over his bottom lip, Jethro’s tongue darting out to lick it.

Cupping his jaw, he pulls him closer. Kissing him until their jaws ache.

Their breathing is getting heavier and there too many layers.

Jethro pulls at his tie, blue today, while he untucks his shirt. Tie and jacket thrown to the floor, Jethro’s fast fingers unbutton the shirt. The Doctor stares down at the long, nimble digits and brings them up to his lips. He licks his fingertips, bringing his index into his mouth. Jethro is whimpering, his breath quick and erratic. The Doctor’s eyes flutter as Jethro’s free hand rubs him through his pants. Freeing Jethro’s fingers, he fumbles with his zip.

He runs his hands up underneath Jethro’s shirt, tracing every angle. He strips it off and undoes his pant buttons, pushing them down to his knees. His dick is aching; he wants this, more than he knew. Everything about Jethro is a memory; he wants to make it real again. His hands undo Jethro’s pants, shoving them down.

Clothes are beginning to pool around them. The Doctor’s hands roaming every inch of skin Jethro has uncovered. His thumbs settle on his nipples, rubbing small circles. Jethro hooks his thumbs into the Doctor’s waistband and pulls down his underwear, freeing his throbbing erection.

Skin on skin, they pull each other closer. The Doctor’s hands kneed Jethro’s ass through the thin cotton fabric, grinding their hard cocks together. He slips Jethro’s briefs off, his dick, slick with precome, rubs against his own. Bucking into every grind, Jethro moans, bringing his hand, those long thin fingers, around both their cocks, pulling, mixing their sex as lubricant. Its achingly slow and perfect, drawing out their orgasms. His free hand moves from the Doctor’s chest to roll his balls between his palm and fingers. The Doctor gasps and groans into Jethro’s mouth. He laughs, “Why am I doing all the work here, Doc?”

“Shut up and fuck,” he grunts, mouthing at Jethro’s collarbones. Jethro smiles and does as he’s told.

He brings them off in one, two, three pulls of his long fingers wrapped around them, their bodies shuttering against each other as they reach their peak. Their stomachs, coated in the warm sticky mess, they lean their heads on each other’s shoulders breathing deeply, slowly coming down from their high.

Weak kneed and post orgasm; they kiss sweetly and smile at each other.

“Next time, you do all the work,” Jethro teased.

The Doctor smiled, “can’t you just _magic_ it?”

Jethro scoffed and slapped his chest, “No, you lazy prat, I cannot just ‘ _magic_ it.’”

“It was worth a try,” the Doctor chuckled.

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :)


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